


Woven From Hatred

by R_Rosewood



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Crack Relationships, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25180306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Rosewood/pseuds/R_Rosewood
Summary: Queen Angella seeks the help of Shadow Weaver but not before removing her mask.
Relationships: Angella & Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra), Angella/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 64





	Woven From Hatred

Angela found the mask unnerving.

No, _more_ than unnerving. It was the face she'd come to associate with all things wicked; all things wrong and dark and cruel. She'd plastered that mask onto the face of the Horde; of Hordak and his soldiers, of destruction, of death. Of _war_. When she'd mourned the (supposed) death of her husband - as her heart had ripped itself apart - she'd sworn over and over her hatred for that mask would never wane; her hatred for the woman who'd hindered Micah's strength - strength that _maybe_ , just maybe, could have _saved_ him, would burn for an eternity.

Without Shadow Weaver, perhaps Micah would still be here.

And so now, as she sat opposite that very mask- close enough to hear the rattle of Shadow Weaver's lungs with every intake of breath, she found her confidence seeping through the cracks of her patchwork heart. 

Micah's death, it seemed, Micah's _weakness_ , had ruined her as well. 

So as Angela stared into those white sockets of that hollow mask, as she listened to another wheezing exhale, she made a decision - 

\- and gently slid her fingers along the protruding bone of Shadow Weaver's jaw and hooked the tips beneath the edges of her mask.

Shadow Weaver moved as though she'd been burned; jolted away from the Queen's touch but not quite far enough to dislodge the hands pressing against her jaw. Her breathing, weak as it was, hitched - although she'd have taken _that_ truth to her shallow, early grave. 

"I can't keep talking to you like this," said Angela, pinching either side of the thin mask but tilting her head to meet what she hoped to be Shadow Weaver's gaze. It was, as it always seemed to be, apathetic. Detached. "Let me see. I won't turn you away." she smirked. "You're in _my_ house. I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"Because I know too much?" Shadow Weaver's voice was dry and thin, hidden lips twisted into a sneer.

"I just want to _see_. " 

And without further warning, without waiting for permission, the Queen slid the mask from Shadow Weaver's face in a single, fluid motion-

-and flinched away as though she'd touched a live wire, aghast at what stared back: a hard, thin face picked clean from years of bitter hardship, lacerated in broad, dark scar tissue. Two eyes that must once have shone the most brilliant shade of emerald were now clouded and murky, like a river in winter. Too much mud in the water now to see anything but the raging rapids.

" _Oh_ ." Queen Angela brought both hands to her mouth and in doing so, dropped the mask.

Almost lazily, Shadow Weaver extended an arm and caught it between thin grey fingers, rolling it between either palm before flinging it over her shoulder with a _clink-clink-clonk_. Angela was still staring, wide-eyed and pale, and Shadow Weaver, never one to admit to feeling small, began to feel the discomfort bring sparks to her fingertips. But she couldn't lash out - not as she could have done with the Horde; with Catra, with Lonnie and Roglio - so instead she sneered once more with thin, scarred lips. Lips Angela could now see. 

"Like what you see?"

"I didn't-I didn't _know_." With one hand still clasped over her mouth, the other reached forward, slowly, cautiously, and when Shadow Weaver didn't try to bite off a finger (although she considered this for the briefest of moments), gently placed a hand against a hollow grey cheek. " _Micah_ did this? To you?"

She reacted on instinct.

"It wasn't his fault." Shadow Weaver snapped. 

_Why was she still defending him?_

"I should have known he wasn't ready."

Angela felt the muscle in Shadow Weaver's jaw push against her palm as she grit her teeth. 

"And _what_ makes you think you can touch me?"

Angela ignored the blatant threat (with great difficulty) and ran a gentle thumb along the high, hard edge of a cheekbone. "I want your help, Shadow Weaver. And I don't want to have to take it from you." Angela sighed. "Many of my soldiers have been wounded. Many are sick and the healers have been unable to cure their illness." 

Shadow Weaver's mouth widened in disdain and, with great reluctance, pulled her face from the Queen's palm, trying to ignore the prickling sense of disappointment at the loss of contact; at the loss of _warmth_. Without her touch, Shadow Weaver's cheek felt cold, and it had been a _very_ long time since someone had touched her. Had willingly put their skin on hers (ruined, though it was).

Shadow Weaver narrowed her eyes.

"You want me to play doctor? I _don't_ do that." She absently scratched at the tip of a pointed ear. "Let the weak die. It will only strengthen your military. It's how we kept the horde _strong_." 

"None of them were weak before they fell ill!" Angela snapped, and brought both hands to rest as fists in her lap. Small sparks of blue lightning arced across the ridges of her knuckles. Angela took a deep breath and tried to ignore Shadow Weaver's wry smile - amused at her outburst. 

"Needless to say this is _not_ the Horde nor will it _ever_ be. I cannot force you to heal them, as I fear you'd do something cruel out of spite. But," she raised a hand as Shadow Weaver leaned forward to strike down another offer. "I can offer you the freedom to roam the city. You will not be permitted to leave the grounds but you won't be shot on sight for leaving this room." 

This made Shadow Weaver still. 

She sought the queen's gaze for something akin to trickery; for the coiled snake waiting to strike - to reveal the lies and hidden malice. Instead, she noticed the flecks of brown within the blue of the queen's iris, and how the gentle slope of her face ended with a square chin and delicate throat. It occurred to Shadow Weaver then that Angela was soft; so unlike Shadow Weaver herself, who was as sharp and jagged as a broken mirror. Angela's cheeks full whereas Shadow Weaver's were hollow and sunken. Her skin clean where Shadow Weaver's was torn.

Angela was beautiful, and she was not, and Shadow Weaver didn't know what to do with this realisation. 

"Shadow Weaver?"

Shadow Weaver dragged her ruined gaze from crystal teardrop hanging from the Queen's ear and instead focused those ripped pupils on the soft blue of Angela's eyes. 

"I will...consider it." 

The Queen sagged, and her hands relaxed - the arcs of blue lightning between her fingers sizzling out.

"Thank you. That's all I can ask." 

She had already made her decision.

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't my best work but I've had this thing sitting in my file for months and I've had to get rid of it so please be kind xD. Shadow Weaver's interactions with any non-Horde character were quite interesting and I wish these relationships had been expanded upon, so I explored this potential myself.


End file.
